


and i get the feeling that you'll never need me again

by thisismetrying



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Like most of my fics, Phone Calls, Post-Canon, Post-Moscow (The Queen's Gambit), almost drabble-y?, tbh idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 22:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismetrying/pseuds/thisismetrying
Summary: “I know what I saw Benny,” she says. Her voice is hard, unyielding. “I thought you were better than that.”“I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything.” He is not a begging man, but he is close to getting on his knees. “I’m sorry.”Finally, she looks back at him, the anger in her eyes evident, tinged with pain. Still, her mouth is set, jaw tight.  “You let go,” she tells him, daring him to contradict her.The image flashes before his eyes, his hands where they shouldn’t be. The release. Beth’s shocked and then disappointed and then anguished eyes. And after, how she’d fled from the room, anger and fury in her every step.-Or what happens when Benny does something he can't take back
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 13
Kudos: 38





	and i get the feeling that you'll never need me again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HumiliatedRook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumiliatedRook/gifts).



> This is what happens when you listen to "Falling" by Harry Styles on repeat okay. Title and lyrics at the end and beginning from it.
> 
> This can take place any time after Moscow

_Forget what I said_  
_It’s not what I meant_  
_And I can't take it back_  
_I can't unpack the baggage you left_

“Please, Beth,” he says. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake _._ ”

Benny Watts is not a pleading man. In fact, he is rather a proud man. He likes being right, and most of the time, he’s absolutely sure that he _is_ right. He doesn’t make mistakes often. And when he does, he doesn’t apologize. But here he is at Beth Harmon’s doorway, begging for forgiveness. His hat is off, his arms outstretched to stop the door from being slammed on him. _God,_ he thinks, _how could I have been so stupid, so thoughtless?_

“It was just, it was just one moment,” He knows it sounds like he’s making excuses, and perhaps he is. “I don’t know why I did it.” He tries to look into her eyes, tries to urge her to look at him. If they could just talk, if he could just explain…But Beth won’t look at him, her eyes darting anywhere but his.

She stands in the narrow dorm room door of the university, shaking her head. “I know what I saw Benny,” she says. Her voice is hard, unyielding. “I thought you were better than that.”

“I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything.” He is not a begging man, but he is close to getting on his knees. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

Finally, she looks back at him, the anger in her eyes evident, tinged with pain. Still, her mouth is set, jaw tight. “You let go,” she tells him, daring him to contradict her.

The image flashes before his eyes, his hands where they shouldn’t be. The release. Beth’s shocked and then disappointed and then anguished eyes. And after, how she’d fled from the room, anger and fury in her every step.

If he could go back and stop himself, he would. She must know that. He never wanted to hurt her. It was all just a big, dumb mistake.

“I know,” he admits. He supposes it’s no use giving excuses. He knows very well what he did. How inexcusable it was. “You were right. You are right.”

“You let go,” she repeats, as if she needs to say it out loud for it to be real, to solidify it for her. To actually believe that he was capable enough of such a dirty, nasty play. “And then you picked it up again. You made your move and you took it back.”

Benny hangs his head in shame. It’s exactly as she said. It was touch-move, and he’d let go, just for a second. But a second is enough in chess, according to the rules they live by. Then he’d picked it back up and moved it to a better position. One where she wouldn’t mate him in one. Before anyone noticed. Except Beth.

Eagle-eyed Beth, who knew the game just as well as he did. She’d seen him move his king to F4. And release it onto the square. Then, less than a split second later, before anyone but him and Beth had seen, touched it again and moved it to H3 as if he never let go. But he did. He knows. And she knows it. And it is unforgiveable. He doesn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he did, and he can’t take it back now.

Or maybe he can. “I’ll tell them. I’ll tell everyone. I’ll forfeit.” His voice cracks on the words, but he means it. If it’ll make her forgive him, make her take him back, he’ll do it. It was stupid anyway.

She knows what it means. She must know what it means, that he’s saying this, he thinks, wildly, desperately. When he tells the Federation, they’ll invalidate the check, strip him of his win, of the title. But it’ll be worth it if it’ll get Beth to stop looking at him like that. Like he’s a lying, dirty cheat. Which he supposes, he is. But he can’t stand to think that that’s what she’s thinking of him. Beth, who he has so much respect for, and goddamn it, who he _loves_. And he thought he’d finally earned those things in her eyes too.

She stares at him now, just as she had when she’d realized what he’d done. Her careful poise had cracked, her hands had faltered under her chin as she’d realized what he’d done. She’d looked at him, almost as if she couldn’t believe it. His betrayal. The ultimate betrayal. Then, her head had flickered over to the referee, who had somehow, inexplicably, missed Benny letting go of the piece. And she’d been pressured by the time control, had had to figure out her next move.

“Were you really that threatened by me?” she asks, quietly. “You had the advantage.” He nods. That’s what makes it all so worse. His white had the advantage. Of course, there’s no telling what would have happened, if he hadn’t let go of the piece, if he’d moved it to H3 initially. But he had, and now they were here. Had he let it lie, had he not _cheated,_ Beth would have mated him in one. As it happens, Benny won.

“Forget it,” Beth finally exhales. “I don’t want you to.” Her mouth is set in a firm line, her eyes hard. “They won’t believe you any way, they won’t believe me. I didn’t complain during the match.” She sighs. “I’ll just be the bitter woman making things up.”

He doesn’t contradict her, knows her analysis, like most, is right. The Federation still hasn’t particularly warmed up to her, even after Moscow, and it’s not likely they’ll take her word. Even if he brings it to them himself, he’s not sure what they’ll do, if they’ll just try to sweep it under the rug, citing the exact reasons Beth is anticipating.

But he doesn’t care about the damned Federation right now. He just wants things to be alright between the two of them. “Beth, please,” he tries once more. He needs to figure out how to make this right. So things can go back to how they were between them. So they can go back to New York together and train and just, be together.

“Benny, please just go.” And then she says the words he’s been dreading since the afternoon, since he let go. “It’s over.”

-

Benny goes back to New York alone, with the money and a title, but no Beth. Beth’s prediction had been right. The Federation had all but covered up their ears and pretended he wasn’t speaking when he’d approached them the next day, trying to make things right. Beth hadn’t even bothered to come, having already made alternate arrangements for travel, apparently.

He gives it a week. Then he calls her home in Lexington, praying she’ll pick up.

She does. When she hears his voice, the resounding click of the receiver sends a clear message. But Benny Watts has never been one to give up so easily. He calls her every few days. Sometimes the she picks up, sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes he’s able to get a few words like _please,_ or _Beth,_ or _I’m sorry_ , before the inevitable hang-up.

When he’s not calling her or out gambling his tournament earnings away, he sits around and kicks himself for his stupidity. He’s Benny Watts, he’s supposed to be a genius, a chess prodigy, and he makes such a stupid mistake?

His phone bills pile up, but he doesn’t care. One month after the tournament, he calls her. He doesn’t really expect anything different this time, but he calls anyway. It’s become a habit. “Hello?” Beth’s voice reaches through the phone.

“Wait,” he begs. He braces himself for the click, for the phone call to be over. But it doesn’t.

“I’m waiting,” she says. Benny’s head spins, and he’s suddenly not sure what to do. Not sure where to go with this small, infinitesimal move forward. He’s said sorry more than he can count, has written more letters than he cares to admit, has had friends relay messages to no avail.

“I’m sorry.” But it’s not enough, he knows. Internally, he tells himself he has nothing else to lose. So he surges ahead, bypassing all the other openings he’s rehearsed this past month. “I miss you,” he says. It’s true. He just wants her here, back with him. He misses her, misses her quick wit, her mind, playing chess with her, the hours between them exploring the board and each other’s bodies.

(He remembers the first time he’d said those words to her. Back when he’d be so unsure, when he’d almost stuttered saying them. Now, he’s more sure of them than anything else. His uncertainty is what got them here in the first place, the way he’d chanced his _maybe_ on the board. Well, he was right the first time. Maybe is a loser’s word.)

To his surprise, Beth responds. “I know,” she says. There’s a long pause where neither of them says anything and Benny wonders if the call’s dropped. “And I’m over it,” she sighs finally. Benny always thought that people exaggerated when they claimed their heart leapt in their chest, but now, he swears it does. A small well of hope rises in him.

“It doesn’t change anything though, Benny,” she continues. And just like that, the feeling in Benny’s chest sinks, as he realizes it’s all pawns and no hope. He should have known. Beth Harmon has always been resolute in her decisions, her plays. He’d taught her that, after all. No _maybes_ , don’t hesitate when you play, your opponent will know.

Still, Beth has always been her own player. Has never really needed him. And maybe that’s why what she says next, with her voice lingering and hesitant, makes him feel like she’s taken the knife from his hip and drove it into his own heart. “But I miss you too,” she admits.

“Then come back,” he says. “Or let me come to you,” he offers. He’ll do anything. It’s not about chess or about strategy or training. He just…wants to be with her.

“I can’t,” she says, her tone sharp but betraying her need for self-preservation. He closes his eyes and nods. He understands. But he doesn’t know what to do with that, when his own needs are so conflicting, when every bone in his body just wants to drive to Kentucky right this moment.

There are no other words forthcoming from Beth, no hidden surprise move. They’re at a stalemate. The game is over, they’ve analyzed it to death. There are no other moves. He took it back and now they can’t undo it, can’t go back and replay it. She hangs up.

-

Despite her loss to him at the regional tournament, Beth is on the next cover of _Chess Review._

He reads the interview. It’s fairly standard, asking about her latest games, what strategies she’s currently interested in, her upcoming anticipated matches. One section catches his interest, in particular:

 _When asked about her biggest chess influences, Harmon cites some standard chess legends, Alexander Alekhine, Paul Morphy, and Vasily Borgov (who she defeated in the Moscow 1968 Invitational), but also mentions some less well-known faces. She gushes—_ (Benny shakes his head at the reporter’s word usage. He can’t imagine Beth _gushing_ )— _about former opponent and former Kentucky State Champion Harry Beltik, saying she’s lucky to have found a group of supportive friends in the chess world. When asked about her recent loss to Benny Watts at the San Francisco tournament, she demurs and switches the topic._

_Harmon promises that fans do not have to worry about her losing her national title._

It shouldn’t stab him the way it does, but he thinks it would have been better if she’d publicly insulted his game. At least then, he’d have something to be mad about. But the only person he has to be mad at is himself.

He goes out and spectacularly loses four poker games in a row. His king is tipped and he’s done it himself.

-

They don’t see each other until the National Championship later that year.

Beth comes alone. From all reports, her game is now more vicious, more attack-focused than before. But there’s also a steadiness to her moves, thoughtful, meticulously studied and tested strategy behind each play.

This time, there is no friendly greeting, no polite small talk between them. Benny doesn’t go to the cafeteria to play skittles with the others, and from what he can tell, she doesn’t either. If there are lingering glances on her part, he can’t tell.

He makes several mistakes, but they’re all honest ones that he doesn’t try to take back. At night he pours over Beth’s games to see if she’s as shaken by his presence as he is hers. If her _I miss you_ still stands. She wins all her games and plays several perfect ones.

On the final day, they sit down to the championship game that everyone already knew was going to come down to them. Beth’s eyes don’t meet his, instead fixating on his hands. He fidgets more than usual, twisting his signet ring so much that halfway through the match, the skin is red.

Beth’s eyes don’t meet his, but her focus is undeterred. Her eyes are clear, not glassy. She moves with deadly precision, even more decisive than usual. Her moves are carefully planned, her strategy well-executed. He doesn’t even see what’s coming until three moves later, when it’s too late. He falls easily into several of her traps.

Sighing, he picks up his piece, careful not to let go. But she already has.

 _What if I'm down?_ _  
What if I'm out?  
What if I'm someone you won't talk about?  
I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

**Author's Note:**

> For @HumiliatedRook who is one of the greatest fandom friends ever and inspired by her prompt "what if Benny breaks Beth's heart" because I've definitely written a few too many "Beth breaks Benny's heart" fics so this is a small attempt to remedy it (even though I guess this ended up a little more toward mutual heartbreak)
> 
> Also, the touch-move thing is inspired by the Polgar vs Kasparov 1994 controversy and the game (almost) blunder is inspired by Beliavsky vs Johannessen so semi-yay for me for actually looking up chess stuff this time. 
> 
> Don't forget to join the Beth/Benny discord: https://discord.gg/a4eJARmQ


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